Freeman's Mind
by ChargedIon
Summary: Freeman's Mind follows the thoughts of 27 year old Dr. Freeman. Rated T for swears and minor suggestive adult themes.


**DISCLAIMER**: Half-Life, and all of it's characters are property of Valve. The dialogue and the idea behind this is property of Ross Scott. I just put it in text form. The original form is a machinima and can be found at appropriate sites.

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"Ah jeez, I'm running late."

Gordon was standing in a dull tram, on the left hand side. On the right was rear facing seats.

_Good morning_

"Who said that?!" thought Gordon looking around wildly, looking for the source of the voice.

_Welcome to the Black Mesa transit system._

"Oh, it's the intercom"

_This automated tram is provided for the security of_-

"Aha! I'm not the only one running late!"

Gordon passed a Security guard seemingly locked out of the facility, banging on a door.

"Suuuuuuuckeeeeeer! Hahah," Gordon yelled out the window as the tram passed the guard.

_The time is: 8:47 AM_

"Shit! I didn't know I was that late!"

_The topside temperature is: 93 degrees._

"Eight forty seven. I am so dead."

_The Black Mesa compound is maintained at a pleasant 68 degrees, at all times_

"Shit" whispered Gordon, "I need to buy a watch. I'm already on probation with the company. They could FIRE me."

_This tram is inbound from the- _"Oh well"-_level 3 dormitories to- _"What can ya do?"_-Sector C test labs and control facilities._

The tram passed a robot on the left.

_If your intended destination is a high security_- Gordon moved the front of the tram, thinking "High-security'...?" -_beyond sector c you will need to return to the Central Transit Hall in: Area Nine_

"Am I in the right train?"

_If you have not yet submitted your identity to the retinal security system_-

He glanced to the right, "Oh, what's this?" he thought looking a huge missile. _- You must report to Black Mesa personnel, for processing_. _For you to be permitted in the high security branch-_

"Yeah, 'high security.' That's why we leave armed missiles lying around for everyone to check out, 'It's part of the tour!"

The tram started descending.

_Due to the high toxicity level of material routinely handled in the Black Mesa compound, no smoking, eating, or drinking are allowed._

The tram started moving forward.

"Fascists. Yeah, whatever, I'll take a forty-ounce up here if I feel like it," Gordon thought.

_Please keep your arms and legs inside the tram, at all times._

"Well I'll stick my arms out the window if I-"Gordon looked out of the windows and sees mineshaft-style support beams along the wall."-okay, maybe not."

_-please wait until the tram has come to a complete halt at the station platform. In the event of an emergency, passengers are to remain seated and to wait further instruction._

The tram passes through a canyon. "Hey, what's going on down there?" Gordon thought. At the bottom was dark green helicopter warming up it's rotors at the bottom, next to a hangar built into the rock wall. "I should have been a pilot" he thought, rather glumly.

P_lease stay off electrified rails._

"Ha. Wow..." A chain link gate opened in front of the tram. The tram passed through and stopped in front of some big blast doors. "How dumb do you have to be," Gordon thought, "I mean they're not gonna say something like that unless someone already tried to do it." The big blast door in front of the tram opened and a rail extended from the other side, meeting the rail the tram was currently on.

"I guess if I was drunk enough, I might climb out the window here and pull some hang time on the electrified tram rail," he continued, "That kinda reminds of that time when a squirrel got caught in the power lines one day back in MIT. The thing caught fire and got fused to the wire. This caused a transformer to blow up and knock out power to the whole campus. That squirrel must've cost the university at least ten thousand dollars. That was a good day."

_A reminder that the Black Mesa hazard course decathlon-_

"Oh man!"

_-will commence this evening at 1900 hours-_

"I Forgot about that!"

_-in the level 3 facility. The semi finals for high security personnel will be announced in separate secure access transmissions._

"I need to practice"

_Remember: more lives than your own, may depend on your fitness_. "What? We're physicists!" Gordon exclaimed, to no one in particular.

_Do you have a friend or relative that would make a valuable addition to the Black Mesa team?_

"I don't believe this..."

_Immediate openings are available in the areas of: Materials handling and-_

The tram stopped next to a giant yellow robot lifting and moving a large crate.

"Oh cool a robot," he thought, moving to the front left corner to get a better view, "Robots are the only friends I need." The robot moved through a door as the tram started moving again. "Maaaan, look at that thing. It's like a giant worker ant. Robots rule. Pneumatics rule. That's awesome."

_The Black Mesa research facility is an equal opportunity employer_

"Man, they're still talking about hiring? I guess my cousin Jesse needs a job. If only he wasn't a sex offender, it would be so much easier to find something for him."

_A reminder to all Black Mesa personnel: _

The tram started descending again.

_Regular radiation and biohazard screenings are a requirement for continued employment at Black Mesa research facility. _

("Ugh. Don't remind me," thought Gordon. He looked out of the front window to see the same type of robot crossing in front of the tram. "Whoa! We're gonna crash! Good it stopped," he yelled, as the tram stopped. Next to his, was another stopped tram with a scientist and a man in a blue suit carrying a briefcase, who was watching Gordon intently.

"What are you looking at?" he asked, even he knew the man couldn't hear him, "Hey what's that green crap?" he asked, pointing out green liquid dripping from the ceiling, and spilling from a burst silo. "What is this?! Jesus Christ, look at this place! This is a disaster! That's gotta be toxic. God the EPA is gonna tear us apart if they find out about that. Well I'm not saying anything. I don't want called to court as a witness about this once the cat gets out of the bag." The tram finally stopped at a flimsy looking metal catwalk suspended above a seemingly bottomless pit by thin metal cables.

_Please stand back from the automated door and wait for the security officer to verify your identity._

Gordon moved towards the door, "Locked," he said.

_Please check the area for personal belongings._

"Hmm…" he said, looking around, as a security officer moved towards the door.

"Mornin' Mr. Freeman," the guard said, his voice muffled by the thick metal door. "Looks like you're running a little late."

"Yeah, you know what? I don't even care anymore. By the time I get suited up, I'm gonna be over an hour late. I figure I'm either fired, or I'm not." He told the security officer, who said nothing. He followed the guard across the catwalk. "Is someone following me?" he thought looking around. Seeing no one, he thought "Okay, good."

"Yeah, I'm just gonna stroll in their like I own the damn place," he thought, "Take my time, grab some donuts. If I'm fired I can probably jack some office supplies or computer equipment on my way out. I could just stuff thins in a big duffel bag. Nobodies gonna notice. You know, Steve's never in his cubicle. I could just walk right up and take his laptop. Hell, I can even take that color laser printer from accounting. That thing's gotta be worth a couple grand. I wonder if it can print money."


End file.
